


Mid-Winter BBQ

by thattardiskey



Series: When Our Mortal Bodies Fail Us [3]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M, Modern AU, Pre-Slash, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 02:35:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6734482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thattardiskey/pseuds/thattardiskey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bard hadn't expect Thranduil to call, that doesn't mean it was unwelcome.<br/>BBQ AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mid-Winter BBQ

Bard hadn’t expected Thranduil to call. He expected to have a quite dinner with his children, still the burgers he promised. Still on the grill he painstakingly shoveled out. Still with pasta salad and french fries. Still as planned, minus the guests.

However, Thranduil called around 3 pm, asking if he and Legolas were still invited to dinner. He was undeniably groggy, with the words heavy and sentences fading off. Bard assured him that they were welcome and that supper was at 6 pm. Thranduil hung up the phone with a “thank you.”

Knowing that he was having guests over kicked Bard into gear. Instead of half watching the junk on tv and half watching Tilda build fairy houses through the window, he started in on what he could prepare. Still watching Tilda hollow out tiny homes among growing snowbanks and at roots of trees, he put water on the stove and pulled out hamburg that should have started thawing a few hours before.

Time went faster than Bard expected. Before he knew it, he was turning on the flood lights and calling Tilda inside. He made her hot chocolate to quell her light anger at being called away from her fairies and she sat at the kitchen table, legs swinging and eyes watching. Every so often she’d comment on whatever he was doing, be it a question about why he was putting the hamburg in the microwave (I didn’t take it out soon enough to thaw, so I need to defrost in the microwave) or a warning not to use certain dish towels (I know Sigrid has a different towels for different dishes, love, it’ll be our secret that I didn’t use the yellow towel for silverware, yeah?) or a call for him to come read whatever bit of story she had written in her notebook (You’re writing next Great American Novel, kiddo. But remember your spelling words. Comfortable is f-o-r-t-A-b-l-e not f-o-r-t-E-b-l-e.)  
At one point, Bard looked at the clock. It was 5:55 pm and he was running a bit behind. He had yet to turn on the grill and was still stuffing his family’s burgers. He’d hoped to have everything but the neighbor’s burger’s stuffed and ready to throw on the grill when they arrived.

“Tilda?” He asked, back turned so he could make the patties. “Can you run upstairs and get your brother and sister down here?”

“Yup!” She replied, joy at being able to order her siblings around filling her voice. The sound of the chair scraping against the tile flooring followed by the soft thud of socked feet running telling Bard she’d left.

Shortly after, the sound of feet returned, but only one pair.

“Bain’s doin’ homework.” The shrug was clear in her voice, “Said he’s almost done, though.”

“Was he actually doing his homework?” Tilda was good at telling if people were lying to her.

“Think so? Looked like gibberish to me. Lots of letters and numbers.”

“And your sister?”

“She’s working on her nose, but it ain’t going right.”

It took a second for Bard to understand what she meant.

“She’s trying to change out her nose ring?”

“Yeah, she’s tryin’ to get one of her earrings to fit in but it’s all curved, like this,” Bard turned around, Tilda was making an L with her fingers.

“Well, run upstairs and tell ‘Rid and Bain that I want them to come downstairs when the guests arrive, okay?”

“Yup!”

Thranduil and Legolas arrived 15 minutes later. 10 minutes late. Bard thanked his lucky stars at the timing. He had just gotten everything he could ready when the knock on the door came.

“Sigrid! Bain! Come downstairs! They’re here!” He shouted, walked to the door.

Thranduil was not perfect when Bard opened the door. His jacket swallowed him and his hair was falling out of the pony tail it was pulled up in. A stark white bandage was still wrapped around his hand. Next to him was his son. Legolas was in considerably better condition.

“Come in. Make yourself at home. I was just about to start on the burgers.”

Bard stepped aside, allowing the pair to enter. They both sat at the kitchen table. Thranduil had his head propped on his good hand and took a long slow blink. Bard felt for the man. He wondered if he got any sleep, a wound like that must be causing him fair amount of pain. Legolas sat ramrod straight, eyes roaming around the room.

“We didn’t bring anything. I hope that is okay.” Legolas apologized.

“It’s fine,” Bard waved, “It’s been a long day.”

Sigrid, Bain and Tilda came down the stairs together. Well, Tilda ran down the stairs. Her siblings a few steps behind. Bain’s hair stood up in every direction, especially closer to the front. He raised his hand in a wave upon reaching the bottom step, showing blotches of black ink and stray pen marks.  
Sigrid came closer to the guests. Her hands were folded in front of her and she scratched at her palm with the opposing thumb. Bard, while he would never say it out loud lest it deter her, was glad she replaced the nose ring with something smaller. The skin around the small jeweled stud was slightly puffy and red. Angry at the irritation of being changed.

“Hi, I’m Sigrid. I know we’ve been introduced…” Her mouth twitched as she thought about her next words, “But I was pretty sick at the time.”

“Legolas,” Legolas replied, “And my father, Thranduil.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

“I hate to interrupt introductions, but would either of you like anything in your burger?”

“Pardon?” Legolas asked, Thranduil turned his gaze to Bard.

“Stuffed burgers. They’re the Bowman Special.”

“Sometimes Da let’s me put mac and cheese in mine.” Tilda chimed in, wiggling onto her chair.

“I’m fine, thank you.” Thranduil spoke, “It’s best I avoid heavier foods, I think.”

“Can I get you anything lighter? I made a pasta salad. And we have toast, if you’d like.”

Off to the side, their children had started a discussion about stuffed burgers. Tilda was spouting off wild stuffing ideas. Bain was explaining why Sigrid was totally wrong about putting mushrooms in her burger and Sigrid was countering with how they have bacon mushroom cheeseburgers in restaurants. Legolas watched on, occasionally adding in something about regular burgers and toppings.

“Some toast would be great. Thank you.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m well.” Bard shot him a look. The same look he’d give his kids when they pulled the “I’m fine.”

“You have 12 stitches in your hand.”

“I’m alive.”

Bard couldn’t help himself, “Not for long, by the looks of you.” Thranduil’s eyes flicked up to Bard and a weak smile crossed his face at the joke. “Seriously, have you slept?”

Thranduil shook his head. “Not since last night.”

“The pain?”

“Yes, the nausea doesn’t help either.”

“We have some ginger ale, if you’d like.”

“I don’t drink soda,” then, as an afterthought, “Thank you for the offer though.”

The kids’ conversation broke up.

“Excuse me,” Legolas said, “Can I have a burger like Sigrid’s? With swiss cheese?”

“Of course. I’ll go make it and throw them on the grill.”

Bard made the last burger. With his back turned on everyone, awkward and halting conversation started between Legolas and the Bowman kids. Thranduil drifted off into a light sleep. Occasionally, his eyes would flicker open, land on Bard’s back, and slowly close again.


End file.
